


Ink On My Back

by scythekind



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1310737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scythekind/pseuds/scythekind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's the worst fate? Not existing? Being brought back, only to die again? Or living as the wretched creatures that we are? Don't we deserve some kind of reward? I really don't know." Your name is Davis Pright, and it's time for your shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink On My Back

Your name is Davesprite, and the game is finally over.

You stand, or rather float, with the rest of the sprites, watching the actual players gather around the large red Sburb logo erected in the middle of the platform. They are all bunched together, both trolls and kids staring breathlessly at the house.

As a sprite, you know what happens next. And at this point, you're sure that the trolls and the humans know it too. Once they go through that door, they will claim their prize. The players can finally enter the new universe that they created, though whether they become gods or not is beyond your field of knowledge.

That's for the players though. A whole new and different fate is in store for you sprites. The worst part? You don't even know. It's all up to the game to decide where you go.

Jane takes a step towards the house, and others shuffle forward with her, a flurry of expressions bursting out on their faces.

_'It's kind of terrifying.'_

You look to the small crowd of sprites around you.

_'What's the worst fate?'_

ARquius breaks out into a sweat.

_'Not existing?'_

Nanasprite shares a small nod with you, her everlasting grin never leaving her lips.

_'Being brought back, only to die again?'_

Erisolsprite's nails dig into his skin in anticipation, creating fresh crescent-moon marks to join faded ones.

_'Or living as the wretched creatures that we are?'_

You turn to stare straight ahead of you, where a player has cracked open the door. A small sliver of brilliant white light escapes the slim opening, forcing you to blink your tangerine eyes for one second

_'Don't we deserve some kind of reward?'_

The light floods the never-ending space around you as the door is opened wider. You curl your fists into themselves, your orange wings still slowly beating behind you.

_'I really don't know.'_

Your name is Davis Pright, and it's time for your shift.

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